A Crazy Powerpuff Thanksgiving
by 1000GreenSun
Summary: Blossom's got the recipe for a perfect Thanksgiving dinner. But add 2 cups of petty conflicts, a tablespoon of relationship troubles and a pinch of party crashers into the mix, and her feast takes a disastrous turn. But it might just be worth the trouble


**Disclaimer:** Don't own anything.

**Author's Note:** Wow, it's been a while! But it feels great to be back. Side note- If you're ever considering suicide, don't bother. Just sign up for 4 AP classes and try to keep an A in each one. They're pretty much the same thing.

If you follow **Two Lives Are Better Than One**, the final installment will be up soon, hopefully.

Sorry I've been gone so long... I spent a while on this today, so I hope it at least partially makes up for my hiatus.

This is my first try at a one-shot in this fandom. It's a little on the long side, but still short compared to my other works. I hope it turned out alright... It's a future fic, but surprisingly not an AU. Pretty much follows the PPG timeline, just about 20 years in the future.

I hope you enjoy it!

...

Blossom Utonium let out a small groan as her keys clicked in the lock and the mahogany door of her childhood home slowly opened. She sighed, shoved her keys back in her purse and stepped inside, not bothering to stifle the yawn escaping her mouth. She slammed the door closed and tossed her oversized pink purse in the corner before pulling out the hairband that held her lustrous copper locks in a neat ponytail. Tossing that to the side as well, she lazily strolled over to the newly refurbished den and plopped down on the expensive scarlet couch. The old memories it stirred up couldn't have been more irrelevant; she was exhausted and sleep soon overcame her.

Dr. Utonium had opted to take the night shift at the emergency room. The night before Thanksgiving. It didn't matter that she had a huge family dinner to host the next night; when she took the extra shift, she was desperately trying to get her mind off of more _unsettling_ matters. Yes, her fiancé had cheated on her. It was the typical rich businessman-desperate secretary dalliance. How clichéd. Somehow, she thought Brick was better than that. But he clearly wasn't.

And here she was, doctor-slash-superheroine trying to ignore the throbbing pain of heartbreak by working 72 hours in a row. Sure, the Chemical X in her veins gave her superhuman abilities, but a person can only take so much. And cooking and hosting a Thanksgiving dinner for her abnormally large extended family was the icing on her dysfunctional cake.

These thoughts soon consumed her and sleep suddenly disappeared. Her bright pink eyes shot open as she slowly composed herself, lifting herself off the couch she and Brick shared so many fond memories on. Blossom let out a soft groan as she remembered everything she had to do by five this afternoon. Replacing her weak frown with a confident smile, she stood up, resolute. She had a lot to do today.

But a pungent odor found its way to her and her nose crinkled. She was going to have to shower first.

...

The redhead stepped out of the steaming shower and in a flash of pink, went from towel-clad to semi-formally dressed in a ruffled salmon cardigan, peach scarf and chocolate knit skirt that went a few inches above her knees. Her hair was up in a messy bun and she had on a light layer of makeup that accentuated her big eyes.

Seeing her reflection in her vanity mirror made her frown. Her eyes even started to water. She had no idea why; she looked pretty and was about to spend the evening with her closest friends. And her family. And a bunch of other people that didn't fit in either of the aforementioned categories. She frowned, wiping the tears from her eyes. It was probably just the damn holiday season that was getting her all moody. There couldn't be any other underlying reason, obviously.

Blossom shook her head and flew out of her expansive bedroom to the kitchen downstairs. Opening up her refrigerator to take inventory of what she had already made a few nights ago, she made a mental list of everything that was left. And as she scanned the contents of her large black fridge, she could count the dishes she needed to make with the fingers on her left hand- green bean casserole, sweet corn, mashed potatoes, bread rolls and of course, the turkey.

This would be a piece of pumpkin pie.

...

Blossom stirred the corn, adding its finishing touches before tapping her wooden stirring spoon on the side of the pot and tossing it into the sink. She grinned. One down, four to go.

The redhead was about to peel the potatoes when a catchy ringtone sounded. She sighed and flashed over to the phone to answer.

"Hello?" she asked, trying to mask the impatience in her voice.

"_Oh, hey, Blossom!_" a giggly voice sounded from the other side. Blossom couldn't help but smile in recognition of the familiar tone. It had been a long time since she had seen her sisters; after they left Blossom in Townsville and Bubbles moved to San Diego and Buttercup to Chicago, they only saw each other a few times a year. Despite their superspeed abilities, their busy schedules had interfered with most all of their plans to meet up.

"Hey, Bubbles. What's up?"

"_Not much,_" the blonde giggled from the other side. "_I just wanted to call you to let you know that we'll be late,_" she stated firmly. _"Haha, stop that, Boomie!_" she whispered, her voice almost inaudible, but loud enough for superhuman Blossom to hear, unfortunately.

The redhead forgot that 'we' meant Bubbles _and _Boomer nowadays. A pang in her side hit her as her eyes watered. She was part of a 'we' not too long ago. Blossom bit her lip. No matter the shambles her love life was in, she still had to be happy for her little sister.

"Okay, that's fine," Blossom replied after a beat. "No problem. But I got to warn you, you're gonna miss out on some great food!"

"_I know... I can't wait to try your tofurkey!_"

"...Tof...urkey?" Blossom asked quizzically.

"_Blossom!_" Bubbles cried, "_I told you about this! I'm a vegan now. I can't eat my friends! You said you'd take care of it,_" her pout was audible even across the telephone line.

"...Right," Blossom said slowly. "I said I will. So I'll take care of it!" she added, more peppily this time.

"_Yay! I'll see you soon!_"

"Yeah, see you..." Blossom murmured as the line clicked off. She crossed her arms as her eyebrows crinkled. "What the hell is tofurkey?"

...

After the redhead placed her mashed potatoes on the warmer next to her attempt at tofurkey, she sprinkled bread crumbs on her green bean casserole. Slipping on oven mitts, she picked up the glass container and placed it in her oven, setting it in for a half hour. Blossom sighed a breath of relief. The turkey was broiling outside, the casserole was baking and most everything else was done. Wiping a droplet of sweat from her brow, she leaned against her marble counter and sighed.

Checking the clock, she saw it would only be a few hours until her guests started piling in. Blossom about to fly upstairs to change when an unfortunately familiar siren sounded. She didn't bother picking up the old-fashioned telephone to have an arbitrary conversation with the new, even more clueless mayor this time; she ripped off her pink apron and flew out of the open window to fight off the sudden danger facing her town.

...

"And stay out!" Blossom hollered to the back of the receding dinosaur-monkey hybrid as it slowly made its way out of the Townsville dock. She had weathered a few bruises in their unusually long fight, but nothing compared to the injuries she had inflicted on the unwanted monster. Who attacked a town on Thanksgiving for goodness' sakes?

She shook her head and propelled her hand forward to make her way home; about half-way there, she started to smell something burn. Her coral eyes shot open and in a flash of pink, she was standing in the middle of her kitchen, surrounded in smoke.

The redhead waved her arms around spastically, trying to cause the smoke to dissipate. She carefully made her way to the oven, only to see a giant black hardened box-looking thing. She carefully prodded it, but it didn't budge. She picked up the scalding pan and tried to peel the casserole out, but with no avail; it was rock-solid. Her eyes welled up and in anger, she tossed the glass pan on the floor with an enormous force. Glass shards went flying, but her casserole stayed in a single piece.

"Whatever," Blossom blew a piece of hair from her eyes, "Who likes casserole anyways?" she muttered.

...

Blossom had just pulled out her giant roll of dough when her doorbell rang, alerting her that someone had arrived. Her eyebrows furrowed; she still had an hour before the guests were supposed to arrive. Smoothing out her apron and dusting the flour off herself, Blossom statuesquely walked to the door and gracefully opened it.

"Auntie Blossom!" an effervescent child exclaimed as she engulfed the redhead in a hug.

"Blaire," Blossom beamed as she lifted the three-year-old brunette up. She looked at her other guest, "Buttercup," she grinned.

"Hey, Bloss," the green-eyed brunette stepped in as Blossom handed her her daughter. "I heard Bubbles was running late, so I thought I'd make up for it and show up a little early," Buttercup said cheekily.

"How thoughtful," Blossom said wryly as she closed the door behind the two.

"I try," Buttercup shrugged. Blossom looked at her sister with a warm smile, letting her gaze linger at her energetic niece. She had big forest-green eyes, long ebony locks and high-cheek bones that highlighted her soft features.

"She looks so much like you," the redhead murmured. Narrowing her eyes, she added, "And like-"

"Don't," Buttercup's eyes darkened, knowing exactly what Blossom was going to say next. "Don't say it."

The redhead frowned, but had to respect her sister's wishes, "Sorry, Buttercup," she whispered.

"Something smells good, Mommy!" Blaire exclaimed. Buttercup features lit up at her daughter.

"You're right. It does," she grinned, looking at her older sister.

"Why, thank you," Blossom simpered. "Why don't you two check it out? ...I hope you don't like casserole."

...

After Blossom had given Blaire a quick snack, the two sisters left the three-year old in the den and returned to the kitchen.

"So, where's Brick?" Buttercup simpered as she popped an hor d'oeuvre in her mouth.

Blossom's lip quivered. Why couldn't she control her damn emotions? "He's not coming," she choked out.

"What? Why?" Buttercup asked quizzically, scrutinizing the redhead.

"We broke it off. We weren't right for each other," Blossom explained weakly.

"Bullshit," Buttercup narrowed her eyes. "What happened? You two are frickin' soulmates."

"No. We aren't," the redhead replied emphatically.

"_Yes, you are_," the brunette responded with equal fervor. "You can't let your pride get in the way of happiness. Get over yourself!" she said, a little harsher than she meant.

"You can't tell me that!" Blossom exclaimed defensively. "You never worked things out with-"

"Don't say it," Buttercup growled. "I swear to God, Bloss, if you-"

"Butch," the pink-eyed sister finished her thought. A little more calmly, she added, "He's coming tonight, you know."

"_What__?_" Buttercup cried.

"I didn't want him to, but he's tagging along with Boomer," Blossom explained gently. "Maybe it'll give you two an opportunity to fix things," she said softly.

"I don't think so," Buttercup scoffed. "One look at Blaire and he'll-" she paled.

"Blossom, dear!" a muffled friendly, paternal voice chirped, following a series of knocks on the door. One look at Buttercup and Blossom was ready to dash to the door. Blaire joined her in the foyer right as the redhead opened the door.

"Grandpa!" Blaire exclaimed as Blossom opened the door to welcome her father and stepmother. The Professor and his new wife, Sandra Utonium, happily stepped inside. "Grandma!"

"Hello, dear," Sandra grinned as she crouched to Blaire's height. "How are you?"

"Wonderful!" she giggled.

"That's fantastic," the Professor smiled warmly at his granddaughter. His attention shifted upwards to his eldest daughter. "And how are you, Blossom?"

"Never better," she forced a smile as she ushered the couple in. She followed them into the den where Buttercup now lounged with a sour glare. Blossom was about to take a seat in her old favorite red couch when the doorbell rang once more. She gracefully excused herself to answer it.

...

"Robin! ...Mitch!" Blossom exclaimed, a little befuddled. "You're here... together...?"

"Oh, no! Not like that!" Robin jumped in to clarify quickly.

"We just... carpooled," Mitch added awkwardly.

"Oh, alright," Blossom nodded slowly. "Well, come on in!"

...

"Why do you always have to ring the doorbell? You are so oppressive! I don't know how I ever lived with you!"

"Why must you always blame me, Mojo Jojo, for everything that you can blame because it is blamed on me, when really, it should be blamed on you, not me because I am not responsible for everything you blame on me because it you who should be blamed!"

Blossom smiled tightly at the duo as she held the door open, "Him, Mojo, welcome."

"Hi, darling!" Him gushed. "I got something for you," he pulled out a bottle of champagne adorned with a glittery red bow. He handed it to the redhead.

"Thank you," she smiled gratefully.

"And I, Mojo Jojo, not to be outdone by this excuse for a living being who must blame everything on me and is a waste of oxygen that I shall not be outdone by, brought banana pudding!" he grinned, handing her a tupperware container.

"Thank you..." the redhead acknowledged his gift as well. "I'm sure our guests will love it. Why don't you two come in?"

"Why must you always enter first? You push me behind so you can walk through the door first after pushing me around because to you entering before me is an activity that you must always-"

"Oh, lord. It's going to be a long night," Him muttered as he snatched the alcohol from Blossom on the way in. "Sorry, darling. But I'm going to need this," he told her as he popped open the bottle.

...

"Hey, sweetie, how are you?" a warm smile greeted Blossom as she opened up the door.

"Sara!" the petite redhead grinned at the voluptuous one. "Thanks so much for coming!"

"No problem. I hear your tofurkey is just legendary!" she gushed.

"Uh, yeah. Totally. Come on in," the pink-eyed hostess ushered her in.

...

"Hello, Blossy," a cocky grin revealed itself this time.

"Butch," Blossom deadpanned. "You're here."

"In the flesh," he grinned superciliously.

"Yeah. Are Bubbles and Boomer with you?" the redhead asked.

"Nope. Lovebirds took a detour," he replied simply, jamming his hands in his pockets. "Your sister isn't here by any chance, is she?"

"She is," Blossom grit her teeth. Butch being here alone could pose a problem for Buttercup, the redhead quickly realized. She narrowed her eyes at the brunet, "Stay away from her if you know what's good for you," she threatened.

He chuckled, "Oh, I know what's good for me. And I won't even need your oven. Revenge is a dish best served _ice _cold," he said darkly.

...

Blossom's guests seemed to accommodate themselves, each munching on one of her variegated selection of hors d'oeuvres and cocktails. Blossom carefully watched each person and most everyone was getting along just fine. Mojo and Him couldn't stop bickering, Sara and Sandra were locked in cold, artificial conversation (no doubt over their long, complicated past with the Professor), the Professor was obliviously chatting away with Mitch, Robin was absentmindedly talking to Buttercup, Buttercup was death-glaring Butch and Butch was curiously studying Blaire. But over the tension in the room, there was a clear layer of air of amiability and happiness.

...A really, _really_ thin layer.

...

As the den roared with idle conversation, Blossom had snuck back into the kitchen to finish up one of the last dishes. She couldn't help but let her mind wander. She kneaded the dough and sectioned off pieces for each roll, but every time she punched the buttons on her oven to bake the bread, her gaze flickered to her naked finger. There used to be a pink diamond on that ring finger, she remembered bitterly. A sardonic smile laced her lips but she tried not to think about what could've been. They weren't right for each other, she kept telling herself. Breaking it off with him was for the better.

Or so she desperately tried to convince herself.

A rapping at the kitchen window brought the redhead back to reality. She spun around to give an angry glare at the bird that was pecking at the window, but blanched when she realized it was the object of her sour thoughts instead.

"Brick," she murmured involuntarily, softening at the sight of him. But fury raged through her and her features hardened as she fired a steely glare in his direction. She made no move to open the window; she wasn't giving in and letting her heart break again.

The other redhead merely raised an eyebrow before giving an amused smirk and snapping the lock on the window. He stepped inside her kitchen and pulled out a large bouquet of pink flowers from behind him.

"For you, Blossom. I know they're your favorites," he whispered earnestly.

She scoffed, snatching the flowers from him and burning them to a crisp. She let the ashes fall on the ground.

"Why are you glaring at me? I didn't even break your window this time," Brick feigned innocence.

"Don't pretend nothing happened. What are you doing here?" she demanded acerbically.

"I'm here for dinner, of course. You invited me, remember?" the crimson-eyed ex-criminal smirked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"And that invitation has been rescinded. You're not welcome here," the petite redhead spat, desperately trying to keep up her tough front.

"Really? Wanna take a vote?" he raised an eyebrow. Blossom frowned. He had her there. Half the people in her den were his family; the other half loved him anyways. She needed to get better taste in guests.

Out of nowhere, her lip started quivering. She felt an enormous rush of emotion wash over her as her eyes started to well. "Why?" her voice cracked. "Why, Brick?"

He uncharacteristically softened and swooped her into a tight, warm embrace. He hesitated at first, trying to collect the right words before finally starting. "I'm sorry, Blossom," he murmured into her strawberry-scented hair. "I shouldn't have done that to you. It was wrong," he confessed, albeit uncomfortably.

Brick wasn't used to apologizing, admitting defeat or giving in, but seeing Blossom crumble in front of him pushed his pride aside. He wasn't supposed to have feelings, but when he was around her, he felt so alive. She made him want to be a better person; she cared about him when every sign in the universe told her not to. He used to hate her, but as he got to know her over the past few years, he had come to love her.

Afraid he was becoming too soft, he started to revert back to his old womanizing ways and some _innocent _flirting became a lot more than that. And then Blossom had found out. And then everything started to fall apart. After she left him, he felt so alone; he felt more pain then than he did when they were kids and she killed him. It was unbearable.

"I'm so thankful for you, babe," Brick murmured. "I can't spend Thanksgiving without you. Can you ever forgive me?"

Blossom studied him carefully to ascertain the sincerity of his words. Every fiber of her being was telling her that he meant it. He really did love her. Maybe Buttercup was right. To hell with her pride. She was listening to her heart now.

"Yeah," Blossom whispered, her arms still tangled around him. "But only because the holidays make me so damn emotional."

"I love you," he whispered, his stubble tickling her cheek as he leaned in to kiss her.

...

"Pinkie wanted me to tell you guys that dinner's almost ready," Brick stated as he sauntered into the den. Everyone turned to look at him. "She's just finishing up the turkey, but we can go ahead get seated," he conveyed her message.

A general murmur arose in the crowd as the guests started to move towards the expansive dining room.

"I thought you weren't coming," Buttercup commented carefully, examining Brick as she held Blaire's tiny hand.

"Change of plans," the redhead smirked, running a hand through his carefully disheveled copper locks.

Buttercup nodded, letting a small smile slip on her lips, "Well, I'm happy for you two," she said genuinely before walking off. Suddenly, she stopped and turned around to give him a hard stare. Placing her hands on Blaire's ears she growled, "But if you _ever _hurt my sister again, you can count on finding your balls in a jar beside your bedroom table in the morning."

Brick's eyes widened, but Buttercup had stepped out of the room before he could formulate a reply.

"Real spitfire, huh?" Butch said sardonically, coming up beside him.

"Uh huh," Brick agreed absentmindedly.

"Something about that kid look familiar to you?" the brunet asked his brother carefully.

Brick shrugged, "Looks a hell lot like Buttercup."

"Right," Butch narrowed his eyes at the redhead before stepping into the adjoining room.

...

Blossom couldn't have picked more disastrous place settings. It was just impossible to make things any worse. Him and Mojo sat directly beside each other, Sara and Sandra faced each other directly, Robin and Mitch were opposite sides of the table, Butch sat directly across Blaire and oblique to Buttercup and Bubbles' and Boomer's two empty seats were in the middle of the long table.

Brick assisted the hostess in bringing in the many delectable dishes as the guests made idle, quite awkward, chitchat.

"You know, I really miss this place," the Professor commented wistfully. "If I didn't get that job offer in Cityville, you can bet we'd still live here."

Sandra nodded, smiling, "But I do love what Blossom's done to the place! It's beautiful."

"It is," Sara actually agreed with Sandra.

Him had had more than a few bottles of alcohol, and barely lucid, he wasn't arguing incessantly with Mojo. Buttercup and Butch were shooting each other cold looks as Blaire looked on obliviously. And Robin desperately tried to catch Mitch's attention, but with little avail.

Finally, Blossom brought out the centerpieces- her carefully crafted turkey and her oh-gosh-I-hope-I-did-this-right tofurkey. A light round of applause spread as the guests looked at the tantalizing, mouth-watering food with compelling hunger. She was about to take her seat at the head of the table when her doorbell rang.

"Oh, that must be Bubbles and Boomer!" she exclaimed, thoroughly relieved they had arrived. She was counting on their easy-going, amicable attitudes to lighten up the gravity of this dinner.

"You must be exhausted," the Professor said gently, "Why don't I get it, Blossom?" he suggested. The redhead smiled an appreciative smile at her father as he stepped out to welcome the new guests.

...

"I'm sorry, you are...?" the Professor asked, confused by the two women who had shown up at Blossom's door.

"I'm Sedusa and she's Femme Fatale. We're the _exotic dancers_ you ordered," the brunette answered for the third time, quite impatiently.

"Oh, I'm sorry, you must have the wrong house. I don't think we've ordered any... Uh, you know," he replied awkwardly.

"This isn't 123 Hairy Acres?" the blonde asked, stifling a groan.

"...Uh, no."

"...Oh."

"Well, what are we supposed to do for the rest of the night?" Femme Fatale groaned. "_This _is why I HATE men!"

"How is it the entire male population's fault your GPS doesn't work?" Sedusa asked quizzically. "I swear, I'll never understand you," she muttered.

"Why don't you ladies join us for dinner? There's plenty to go around," the Professor kindly offered.

The two strippers looked at each other and grinned.

...

"I'm sorry, those seats are reserved," Blossom objected as the two women sat in Boomer and Bubbles' places.

"We'll get outta here when they come," the brunette shrugged as she loaded her plate with mashed potatoes.

"Are we supposed to know you?" Buttercup raised an eyebrow at the women.

"Femme Fatale. She's Sedusa. We're strippers, so I doubt it. ...Although, you look a _little _familiar," Femme Fatale commented as she examined Butch.

"Not surprising," Buttercup snorted under her breath.

"I have superhearing, Butterbabe. I heard that," Butch narrowed his eyes. Buttercup shrugged. The brunet looked back at the strippers, "You do realize you've named yourselves after the two biggest and sluttiest villains in town, right?"

"Duh!" the brunette scoffed. The blonde rolled her eyes in agreement.

"Okay... Well, since everyone's settled in, why don't we get started? I'll say grace," Blossom started. Everyone at the table grudgingly joined hands as Blossom started the prayer, "Lord, we thank you-"

A sudden crash and flying glass shards interrupted Blossom's prayer. Her pink eyes shot open and the four (four and a half, if you include Blaire) superhumans shot up in response to the intruders.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't Blossom and Buttercup Utonium," the verdant leader of the group stepped up, pulling off his sunglasses.

"I live here, genius," Blossom growled.

"And the sunglasses shtick is so old, Ace. It's pitch black outside, what do you need them for?" Buttercup scoffed.

"What are you doing here?" Blossom rubbed her temples, losing her patience with the desultory events of the night.

"Thought we'd join in on Thanksgiving dinner," Ace shrugged harmlessly.

"There's a door for that, Ace," Brick stated, crossing his arms. "You don't have to break a window. That's just unclassy."

The Professor cleared his throat, "Ahem. So does that mean you boys will be staying for dinner?"

"Absolutely," Ace smirked.

"Great," Blossom said sarcastically. "Now, where was I? Okay. Tonight, we thank you-"

"Blossom, dear, I do believe you have no stuffing on this table," Grubber interrupted her lucidly.

She popped one eye open to locate her bowl of stuffing to prove the gang member wrong, but she realized he was right.

"...Oh. Okay, one second. I'll be right back, you guys," Blossom grumbled as she stepped out of the dining room. "God, I need some alcohol. Where has it been hiding all night?" she muttered on the way out.

...

"Cute kid ya got there, Butters," Ace commented slyly, looking Blaire over.

"Thanks," Buttercup said sardonically.

"Mommy, who are they?" Blaire tugged on her mother's verdant blouse as she pointed to the gang.

"A bunch of losers," the brunette replied caustically. She looked back at her daughter with tenderness. "Are you hungry, sweetie?"

"No, mommy," the little girl shook her head. "Who's he?" she pointed at Butch.

"Now, Blaire. It's not polite to point at people," Buttercup warned gently.

"And when has being polite ever stopped you?" Butch snorted as he drank some more champagne. "When has _anything_ ever stopped you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Buttercup's eyebrows crinkled, a dangerous frown forming on her lips.

"I think you know," Butch narrowed his eyes. He turned to Blaire, who was sitting beside her, "How old are you?"

Before Blaire could answer, Buttercup put her hand on her daughter's mouth and replied for her.

"She's two. Terrible twos, am I right?" she chuckled nervously. A murmur of agreement spread around the table.

"Two..." Butch's forehead wrinkled as he did the math. An ugly sneer soon found its way to his mouth when he came to the realization that his theory about the girl was wrong.

"Yeah, that's right," Buttercup whispered menacingly.

"Mommy," Blaire pried her mother's hand off of her mouth. "What are you talking about? I'm _three_!"

Buttercup let out an involuntary gasp as Butch's eyes widened in realization. Looks like he hadn't been wrong after all.

"I'm going to go check on Blossom," Brick awkwardly excused himself from the table.

...

"Okay, admit it," Brick smirked as he strolled into the kitchen.

"What?" Blossom turned around to give him a quizzical look.

"You're cheating on me," he stated confidently, his smirk unwavering.

"_What?_" she exclaimed, her eyes almost bulging out of their sockets. "Where the hell did you get that idea?"

"There's three heartbeats in this room. You, me and...?" he looked at her expectantly. At her incredulous stare, he rolled his eyes, "Come on. Everyone else is in the dining room. We're the only ones left. You're hiding him somewhere."

"No, I'm not," Blossom finally found words. "Because I'm _not cheating on you_!"

"Fine, we can do it the hard way," he shrugged casually as he flipped to x-ray vision, scanning the kitchen for the apparent perpetrator. When his gaze fell on Blossom, his eyes widened and he stumbled backwards a step.

"Find him?" she asked dryly, not amused.

"You're... you're not cheating on me," he stuttered.

"Thanks for the faith in me," she said wryly.

"But you didn't tell me you're pregnant!" he exclaimed.

"I'm _what_?" Blossom cried.

"You're pregnant. I saw it."

"I'm-I'm p-pregnant?" she stuttered, her eyes even wider than they were before. Well, that explains the mood swings. "I'm... I'm going to be mother?"

"Oh my god, I'm going to be dad," Brick started to run a hand through his shaggy copper locks. He turned to see Blossom almost hyperventilating. "Babe, calm down. You're going to be a phenomenal mother. Why are you freaking out?"

Blossom swallowed, finally taking a breath of air. "Y-You're right. We'll be great parents. We're going to have a great family."

"Speaking of that," Brick reached into the pocket of his dark-washed jeans and pulled out a small box, "I think you're forgetting something," he took her dainty hand and slipped a pink diamond ring on her slender finger. She beamed.

"We're going to be a family," Blossom whispered. "I love you."

"I love you too," Brick grinned as he kissed her.

Suddenly, Blossom pulled away, now a shade of green. She placed her hand over her mouth and turned to the side where she deposited her breakfast. Unfortunately, that's exactly where she had placed the bowl of stuffing.

"Damn it," Blossom groaned. "I hope no one likes stuffing either," she muttered.

Brick just rubbed the small of her back affectionately, reassuringly. He was about to tell her how beautiful she looked when an explosion tore their attention away from each other and back to the dining room.

...

"What the _hell_?" Blossom spat as she saw the state of her dining room. Her table was in two pieces and all of the food she had slaved over a hot stove to make was on the floor. Splattered _all over the floor_. Her fists balled in anger and she looked up to see who was responsible for the mess. When she saw who it was, she almost laughed at herself for not expecting it.

Princess Morebucks.

"Blossom, Blossom, Blossom," the snooty heiress shook her head as she lowered her ray-gun. "What is it-"

"Get out, Princess. Right now," she demanded with a fierce ferocity that would have even the strongest of superpowered monsters wetting their pants.

"But don't you want to hear my diabolical scheme?"

"No. Out," she pointed to the door.

"But I-"

"_Out_," Blossom was absolutely terrifying. Princess paled.

"I-"

"_OUT_."

Princess sighed dejectedly, "Okay," she mumbled before walking towards the door to leave, with her metaphorical tail between her legs. She didn't even slam the door on the way out. Blossom slowly uncurled her fists.

"My dinner," she squeaked, falling to her knees as she tried to salvage the food.

"It's okay, babe," Brick kneeled down as well to help her up.

"No, it's not!" Blossom growled as her palms glowed pink. She got up and in anger, was levitating three feet off of the ground. She eyed each and every one of her invited and uninvited guests with scalding fury.

"No, it's not okay! You people are all out of your mind!

"Sara, Sandra- get over yourselves! You're both intelligent, beautiful women. Drop your damn grudge already.

"Mojo, Him- I swear, if you two don't quit bickering at every opportunity you get, you can forget ever seeing your future grandchild. _Ever_.

"Dad, quit inviting random strippers to dinner!

"Mitch, get a clue- Robin's been in love with you since high school. And I know you love her too. Get married already for God's sakes.

"Buttercup, Butch- you two made the most perfect couple and you frickin' threw it away for a reason no one comprehends. Get over yourselves and raise your beautiful daughter together. You're going to make a perfect family.

"Sedusa, Femme Fatale- get some self-respect and a _real _job. And new names. Please.

"Gangrene Gang, you owe me a new window.

"And Brick," Blossom turned to face her fiance, "You're just as batshit crazy as I am. Don't ever change."

...

With a broom, a mop and a few highly motivated superhumans, the mess in Blossom's dining room was clean within a few split seconds. She offered to whip up some food quickly, but Brick refused to let her, ordering a few dozen pizzas instead.

Blossom started to regret her outburst until she walked into the den and felt the unfamiliar but cozy, familial, amiable atmosphere that filled the room. Sara and Sandra sat beside each other, talking animatedly, and teasing the Professor. Mitch and Robin were sharing a loveseat and whispering and blushing like they were teenagers again. Butch was spinning Blaire around in the air while Buttercup looked on with a warm smile. And Mojo and Him were discussing baby names with Brick and surprisingly, they were actually in agreement.

"So it's decided, then," Him stated. "If it's a boy, you're naming him Hojo and if it's a girl, she'll be Mim."

"Um, no," Blossom vetoed the motion as she joined Brick on their favorite red couch.

Grabbing a piece of a pizza and cuddling closer to her fiance, she couldn't help but smile at her friends, family and bright future. There were days she felt overwhelmed, but ultimately, it was worth it all because she shared her life with such amazing people.

"Brick?" she murmured, nuzzling into his chest.

"Hmm?" Brick looked over to her, his arm draped around her shoulder.

"Happy Thanksgiving," she looked up at him and pecked him on the lips. He grinned at her. A sudden clicking of a lock alerted Blossom, and she straightened up out of reflex.

"We're here!" a bubbly voice exclaimed as footsteps sounded. The two blonds had finally arrived.

Blossom smiled, "About time, you two!"

Bubbles and Boomer looked around the den quizzically.

"So... What'd we miss?" Boomer asked.

...

Happy Thanksgiving, my friends! I'm so thankful for your reviews and continued support. And I hope you're all having a wonderful holiday season.

Do leave me a review! (I love them almost as much as I love mashed potatoes!)


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